Short Story Fridays: Severus the Rogue – The Arena

The hounds circled round, waiting for an opening. The long cold blade called Caliburn steamed in the midday heat. The preternatural steel as cold as winter’s thickest ice. The beast growled in unison. Drool fell from their hungry jaws in streams. I turned my back to one them and it jump. A half circled slice caught the dog under its muzzle. A backhand sent the other howling to the ground. The second strike came at cost, blood stream from the back of my hand where sharp tooth met soft flesh. Without hesitation I swung Caliburn over heard and decapitated the monster before it recovered.

The exploded in cheers. The announcer bellowed into a horn in an ancient language I did not understand, but the message was clear.

I won this day.

That was the day.

One of many.

I killed man and beast alike, day in and day out including seven of my men. The farmers, shopkeepers and guardsmen that followed me into the wilderness. I lived and killed while they met their fate at the edge of the “Champion’s Blade.”

Damn you Valerius and your wounded pride!

The Summer King watched intently, his chin on his fist. His eyes tracked every motion, every cry, every death, every droplet of blood. The Queen laid back, in the shadows waiting for the spectacle to be over so that she could have her way with her “champion.”

Blood during the day, passion during the night.

Hers, not mine.

Every time her lips touched mine I slipped into dreams. At least my mind did. My body was wide awake and willing. And she took advantage of it. I could hope that she tire of me, as she has done with her toys. Then my death would be swift, probably at the hands of her new champion.